Don't Forget To Remember Me
by meredith1018
Summary: Hermione's leaving for the United States, but someone could change her mind...DH compliant but not Epilogue compliant.


**Author's Note**: So this little melodrama came to me while listening to a super old song by JamisonParker, band that no longer exists. Anyway, here you title is a lyric from one of their songs, "Paper, Rock, Scissors." Or maybe it's "Paper, Rock, & Scissors." Oh, details.

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize is not mine, it's JKR's. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

_16 months after the final battle_

"Hermione, your father and I are leaving in a few minutes," Jane Granger said, popping her head into her daughter's bedroom. "How's the packing coming along?"

"I'm nearly done, actually," Hermione replied, neatly placing a folded blouse into one of her two suitcases.

"You know, you still have time to change your mind," her mother said, fake pouting from the doorway.

"We've been through this a thousand times, Mother," Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips and pretending to look annoyed.

"I know, I know," her mother said with a wave of her hand. "Well, we'll see you tomorrow morning. Don't stay up too late."

"Have a nice time," Hermione said politely, choosing to ignore the bit about not staying up too late.

Her mother smiled at her before disappearing.

Needless to say, her parents – especially her mother – weren't ecstatic about her decision to go to University, especially since she was going to the United States. They were definitely supportive of her decision to further her Muggle education, but they had been a bit clingy since Hermione had fetched them from Australia and restored their memories.

And, of course, they were your standard, worrying parents.

Hermione sighed as she opened her sock drawer. No one, actually, had been very supportive of her choice to leave the country.

Ron had thrown a huge fit while Ginny, in a rare show of emotion, cried next to him. Hermione and Ron's relationship had fizzled almost as soon as it had started, but they had come out of it better friends than ever before, and Ron was furious that she would soon be across the pond. He wasn't furious at her, necessarily, but he was furious at the idea of her absence. Hermione, who was crying almost as much as Ginny during the ordeal, had had to console him for nearly two hours before he would calm down. After promises of weekly letters – mailed the Muggle way – and visits over breaks, he'd finally relented. Ginny, on the other hand, couldn't be consoled and had stormed out of the room in tears. Hermione, feeling incredibly guilty, had spent an hour outside of Ginny's bedroom door apologizing and promising to buy her plane tickets so she could come see the States. Ginny had stubbornly demanded first class – which she'd had the luxury of experiencing when she'd joined Hermione on her trip to Australia – before opening the door, hugging Hermione for no less than twenty minutes without pause and informing her of all the places she demanded that they see when she came to visit.

She shook her head in guilt at the memory, finally dumping the entire contents of her sock drawer into her suitcase.

"Taking enough socks?"

Hermione jumped and nearly dropped her drawer ass she spun towards her window which had, as usual, been left open.

Harry Potter was slowly trickling into view as he reversed his Disillusionment Charm.

"You can never pack enough socks," she said irritably, putting her drawer back into the dresser and desperately trying ignore her fluttering heart. "You could warn me, you know, instead of purposefully trying to scare me every time."

"And miss out on the sight of you panicking?"

She glared at him.

"I saw your parents leaving," he said as he leaned his Firebolt against the wall and settled himself on the edge of her bed.

"There's some dinner for dentists tonight," she shrugged, picking her wand up from her desk. "All the dentist and orthodontists in the area going."

"Oh. Sounds fun," he said disinterestedly.

Hermione cast the routine silencing and locking charms on her door. Setting her wand back on her desk, she noticed he was holding a large box in his hands. "What's that?"

"A present."

"Harry," she admonished as she sat next to him. "I said no goodbye presents, remember?"

"Yes, but I ignored you," he said proudly, putting the box in her lap. "If it makes you feel better, I didn't spend any money."

Hermione stared at him.

"I didn't steal it, either."

She rolled her eyes before lifting the lid off the box. "Well, then I suppose I have no excuse but to accept – oh, Harry!"

The box was filled to the brim with photographs Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys. Hermione was in a lot of them, surrounded by her friends and honorary family. She felt her heart swell at the thoughtfulness of the gift.

"I asked Mrs. Weasley if I could make some copies of all the pictures she's taken since we started going round their place and I had to ask Mr. Weasley how to make them like normal Muggle pictures so your new classmates wouldn't ask weird questions."

Hermione lifted a random photo out of the box. Her, Harry, and Ron playing a game of Exploding Snap and in various states of laughter in the picture, by the looks of it sometime around fourth year.

"I figured every time you made a new friend over there you could go back to your room and look at some of these and remember that we're better."

Hermione laughed and put the picture back in, rifling through some more. "I don't have to look at photographs to remember how much I love you guys, silly."

"And there's always the hope that you'll take them out one day for some quality nostalgia and get so overwhelmed with emotion that you'll decide you can't stand another minute without us and come back."

Hermione looked up at him. He'd gone from joking to serious, and was now watching her sadly.

"Harry, you know I have to do this for myself," she told him gently, setting the box of pictures aside.

"They have universities in England," he said for probably the fiftieth time since he'd found out she was going to school in the United States.

"I know," she said wearily.

"You still haven't given me a good reason why you can't go to university here."

It was true. She'd told everyone that she needed some time and space for herself, and everyone had, with some coaxing, accepted her answer. Everyone except Harry.

"I told you, I just need to figure-"

"Yourself out? I don't buy it."

"Well you should, because it's the truth," she lied. She couldn't tell him why she'd really chosen to go to school overseas, because she knew he'd be even more upset with her than he already was.

"It's not the truth, Hermione! You think I can't tell when you're lying?"

"I'm not lying-"

"Yeah, you are," he said angrily. "Just tell me the truth, Hermione. Please."

"It is the truth-"

"Stop _saying _that!" he yelled, standing up and glaring at her. "This is about me, isn't it?"

"No!" Hermione squealed, standing up to glare right back at him. "It's not about you, Harry, it's about me!"

"You're _still _lying-"

"No," she said firmly, holding a hand up to silence him. "This has nothing to do with you, Harry."

That was also a lie. Her decision to go to school so far away had everything to do with him. Well, him and her.

"Then why can't you stay in England?" he demanded again. "And don't give me that rubbish about 'finding yourself' again."

Hermione tugged at her hair nervously. "Then I don't know what to tell you, Harry, because it's the truth," she said weakly, knowing he wasn't going to relent. She'd been putting this argument off for quite a while now, and it was clear that Harry had finally reached his breaking point and wasn't going to settle unless he got the truth.

"No it's not, Hermione, and you know it."

She felt the tears starting to form in her eyes. This would all be much easier if he would just accept her lie, but Harry always knew when she was lying these days.

"It's about me," he said sadly. "I know it is."

"Harry, it's not-"

"I knew it was when you first told us."

"Harry-"

"You couldn't even look at Ginny for a week, which only told me I was right."

"Harry, please-"

"And you haven't slept in two nights. I haven't either, which is how I knew you'd been crying-"

"Harry, _stop_!" she shrieked.

"Not until you admit what this is really about!"

Hermione couldn't meet his eyes. "I already told you what it-"

"No you didn't-"

"It's _me,_ it's about m-"

"Quit saying that!"

"It's the truth-"

"No it's n-"

"Fine!" she screamed as the tears finally started to spill down her face. "It's about you, Harry! It's about you and me and whatever this is and it has to stop and _that's _why I have to get away!"

He looked as if she'd slapped him.

"Did that make you feel better?" she asked sarcastically. "Are you happy now?"

"Hermione-"

"Don't, Harry. Just don't," she sobbed, avoiding his outstretched arms. "I can't – I can't stay and do this anymore, I just can't!"

"Why?"

"Ginny's one of my best friends, Harry! I can't do this to her!"

"We're not officially together, and it's not like we're not even doi-"

"It doesn't matter if we're not doing anything-"

"But I love y-"

"No!" she screamed. "Don't say it, Harry, just don't!"

"Hermione," he pleaded, grabbing her shaking shoulders. "Please…"

"I can't stay, Harry," she choked out, staring imploringly into his eyes. "Ginny loves you, I can't do this to her!"

"But what about you?" he asked quietly.

Hermione sobbed and collapsed in his arms, burying her face against his neck.

"Hermione, do you love me?"

She sobbed harder, clutching his back as if holding on for dear life.

She should never have let it get to this point.

She should have never let it begin in the first place. That first night a week after the final battle when Harry had knocked on her window, nearly falling off his broom because he hadn't been able to sleep all week, she should have gently told him to stay with the Weasley's for a while. She should have brewed him copious amounts of dreamless sleep potion so he'd be able to sleep alone. She _shouldn't _have helped him stagger to her bed and sat up all night fretting while he finally slept away his exhaustion.

She should have stopped it after Harry had gotten over his aversion to sleeping alone, when he came anyway and claimed 'habit' as his excuse. She should have stopped it the first time she felt her heart falter when he flew through her open window. She should have stopped it after Ron had told her he still had feelings for her. She should have stopped it after Ginny had made a public declaration of her love for Harry during a Weasley get together. She should have stopped it the first time she'd lain awake at night, watching him sleep and wishing they could just be together. She should have stopped it when she caught him doing the same thing.

But she didn't.

And then she'd gotten back all of her college applications, and the opportunity to stop it arrived in the form of an acceptance letter to New York University.

She'd debated with herself for days. She would have preferred to go to university in England and stay close to her family and friends, but her overwhelming sense of guilt about Harry was telling her to go to New York. She didn't want to leave him, but she felt it would be for the best. Ginny was like a sister to her, after all, and she refused to let her…emotional affair with Harry go any farther and risk hurting Ginny more than she already was.

So she'd sat down and rationalized with herself for hours one day, working through all the options and coming to the hard decision to go to New York.

Swallowing her cries and steadying her breaths, Hermione slowly regained her composure.

"I – I think you should go now," she stammered, pulling away from Harry and wiping her eyes. "I need to finish packing-"

"Hermione-"

"Don't, Harry. Just – just go. Please."

"You didn't answer my question."

She ignored him and turned away.

"Hermione, I'm not leaving."

If she ignored him long enough, he was bound to leave…

"You can ignore me all you want. I'm not leaving."

"Harry, please go," she said weakly.

"No."

"Harry-"

"Are you going to this all night? It already didn't work once."

Despite herself, Hermione choked back a chuckle. "Please-"

"No," he said again, this time moving around her to stand in front of her again. "Hermione, do you love me?"

She looked into his bright green eyes, and instantly felt the fight leave her.

"Hermione-"

"Yes," she sighed. "I love you, Harry. Of course I do."

He didn't say anything, just stepped forward and kissed her.

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling elated.

She smiled at Harry's sleeping form, sleepily rubbing her eyes. She would have never guessed last night would take the direction it did, but she was rather glad it had.

It took about three minutes before the drowsy grin fell from her face, the familiar – and not more intense – sensation of guilt settling into her stomach.

Oh, no.

Hermione stealthily slid out of her bed, eyes frantically searching the floor for her discarded clothes from the night before. As silently as she could, she gave up her search, snatched her wand off her desk and summoned the garments to fly into her free hand. She threw them on haphazardly before creeping over to her bedroom door. Throwing one last tortured glance over her shoulder towards her bed, she slipped out of her room and threw herself down the staircase.

"And why, may I ask, are you wearing your shirt inside out this morning?" her father asked as she stumbled into the kitchen.

Hermione glanced down at her blouse. "Oh."

"Are you alright, dear?" her mother asked, bringing her a cup of tea.

"Yeah I – I'm just nervous," she shrugged, sitting down next to her father at the table.

"Of course," her mother said soothingly, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Finish all your packing?" her father asked, glancing over the top of the newspaper.

"Just about," she replied, knowing by the time Harry woke and despondently left she'd have to use magic to finish her packing on time.

"Well, whenever you're ready well leave for brunch. Your mother wants to get there before the crowd."

"Alright," she muttered.

"And do fix your shirt before we go. It wouldn't suit for you to embarrass us in public your last day in England."

Mrs. Granger slapped her husband on the head lightly, and Hermione felt her stomach sink even farther. _Last day in England_. She was leaving this afternoon.

* * *

When Hermione got home from brunch (which she'd nervously fidgeted through, much to the amusement of her father who gently poked fun at her nervousness), she walked up the stairs with her head buzzing. She couldn't decide whether she wanted Harry to still be in her room or not. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to see him before she left. On the other, more logical hand, she desperately wanted him to have left and avoid an inevitable, tearful argument.

Hermione reached her door, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

After a few minutes, she decided calming down was a lost cause and timidly turned her doorknob.

He was gone.

Hermione felt relieved for a long moment, stepping into her room and letting out a deep sigh.

Then, when the realization that Harry had really left and she wouldn't see him before she left set in, came the tears.

* * *

After a long, tearful goodbye to her parents, Hermione was slumped dejectedly in her seat aboard flight 421 to Newark, New Jersey. She leaned her forehead against the window, staring unseeingly at the empty sky, fighting back even more tears.

Her mother had been beside herself, and even her father had stopped making jokes and cried a bit. It had been hard, to say the least.

She was excited about leaving for New York. She really was. But a very large part of her really, really didn't want to go anymore. Saying goodbye to her parents had been harder than she ever expected it would be, and she was not too crazy about being an ocean away from them again.

And then, of course, there was Harry.

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled a folded piece of paper out, a note she'd found on her bed when she'd gone to have a good fetal-position cry after finding her bedroom empty.

It didn't say much. It didn't even have a signature on it, not that there was any doubt who'd left it.

_Don't forget to remember me_.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Yes, I did have her plan to go to NYU due to personal bias. I do not actually attend NYU, but my heart is, as always, in New York.

So...review!


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